Another God Amongst Them
by pensive puddles
Summary: A soldier tries to reason why he's the monster he is now as he gazes at a field of soldiers murdered by hiw own hands. And as he retreats into space to escape the death he caused, he slowly sees that Duo isn't the only gundam pilot who is a god [one-shot]


Quick Note: Hey, be kind and review!

**Another God Amongst Them**

Pensive Puddles

Sometimes being the perfect soldier isn't that bad. It beats being human. I should know, I've been the perfect soldier all my life. I don't recall actually being human, of having a human life. That is if you define a child's life as a life centered around strategies, snipe shooters, and con artists. I thought once a long time ago that death was everything. Everyday there were bloody massacres, that it was a daily occurrence. Doctor J showed me thousands of people being slaughtered on film. I can still here their screams. I can still see the mothers holding their children as buildings collapsed on top of them, gunfire swarming them without giving them the time to beg for mercy. The world really is a cruel place.

A gunshot went off in the empty battleground and then a dull thud as another lifeless body hit the ground. I was just going over the bodies, making sure there were no survivors, no witnesses. I had strict orders that this would be a massacre. That was my job, my assignment. Hit and run tactics, murders, assassinations, I was their man. Their boy.

Another body smacked against the earth and I cocked the gun again, the barrel still smoking from the bullet that had left previously. I walked on, stepping on the gore that leaked from the other lifeless bodies strewn across the battleground. It gets old after awhile, the murder missions. It looses whatever excitement it had in the first place. The first experience is always horrifying, always nightmarish. But after the hundredth, thousandth encounter with the dead, and the living shot dead, it all becomes tiresome and boring. And the scary thing is, it doesn't leave you with such a horrific feeling. It just feels…natural. Then again, death has swarmed me since as long as I can remember.

"Please don't kill me! I've got---" a soldier begged with tears in his eyes. He never finished his plea. I shot him dead.

Its easier to shoot men without families, they have nothing to return home to. But those imprudent fools that fight for glory and honor when they have so much to take care of, its irresponsibility that I make sure they understand. I am the punisher. I am the last thing they see before they die.

Although, I do hate shooting men with families. I once found a wallet and opened it up. Pictures fell out of every available pocket. Smiling faces of old people, young people, and children were beaming up at me. And then I saw the soldier with each of these people, smiling with them. I had just killed that soldier moments before. He would never go back to his wife, his three kids, he would never find out what his fourth unborn child looked like. And I robbed him of such a privilege. But then again, he should have known better.

It's not my fault he died. He should have been wiser than to join OZ, the Alliance, any organization. I would have to destroy them in the end. I would kill them because that was my mission. Their death was my mission, and I never fail a mission. Relena doesn't count. She was a mission inside a mission I suppose. Nonetheless, the other missions that involve the destruction of organizations, I always complete those.

A soldier looked up at me. He held his dead comrade in his arms. He didn't beg for mercy or to see his family one last time. He bravely took the bullet that I fired into his head. I can say he went without pain. I cannot say he went without fear. Those are the rare soldiers that I tend to silently respect. They either have nothing to live for like me, which is rarely the case. Or else they are too proud to beg. And I respect those who die without a whimper when they have family to return home to. It makes my job easier. Quiet deaths are so much easier on the ears. Their screams won't haunt me in the silence of space.

I'm out of bullets and the battleground is as silent as the grave. How ironic. It is a grave now. I don't know if the organization will come back for its dead. That is not my concern. All I know is that I am out of bullets and those still alive have a chance to survive. Although I highly doubt any _are_ alive. Wing Zero nearly wiped them all out. There were only the few, miraculous survivors that could reflect back onto their life a little while longer until I came and killed them.

I return back to Wing Zero and I sit on the door that is opened. I looked down at the bodies that lay haphazardly across the bloody ground. Is this what God sees? Does he see these bodies? Is he angry at me? Will he strike me down for my sins? I am more stained then the devil. Satan is purer than I. I am so dirty; so black that the darkest shade of black is white against me. I am evil, a murder. I should have the title of the God of Death. Duo is too kind hearted to carry such a heavy burden. I am death. Those who are near me die. My parents…Odin…those who were the foundation of my life were killed because of me. I can't remember my parents. I sometimes remember screams but that's all. Blurry faces and screams, blood and firearms, that's all I can recall of my life before I met Odin. Now, I have no foundation to fall back on. If the tightrope I walk on now breaks, I'll fall down into oblivion and I won't stop falling.

I enter the cockpit of my Wing Zero and rise from the ground. The bodies get smaller and smaller. No matter. The bodies will turn to dust from which they came. And that's all they are to me now: dust. I have killed nothing but dust. I don't think of the soul of that person, their dreams, their childhood, the things that they thought of when they were with their sweetheart, their children. I don't think of what made them smile, what they had been laughing at hours before when they were joking with their comrades. I don't think of their teenager years, if they played football in high school, if they were the smartest in their class, if they were the next prodigy in some subject or art. I only see their uniforms and what they fight for. They fight against me. If they fight against me, they are the enemy. If they are the enemy, then I will destroy them. And destroying them is my mission. And to fulfill my mission is to be free. And when I'm done with murdering thousands of people, I'll die and I'll just disappear without anyone knowing that I was here.

I let Wing Zero hover in space, conserving energy. I take a break from the war and I sit back in my seat. The air seems thin and used from the recycle system in Wing Zero. It's quiet different from the air on earth. Earth's air always seemed fresh. Then again, from where I had been fighting, the air had been thick with the foul stench of death and gunfire.

I can still here their screams. They still fill the air.

I shudder and hold myself, turning the screen off and shutting off the view of the earth below me. Earth, she's so pretty. I've damaged here. I can see her on my screen. Her beauty is scarred because of me. I abused her.

The screen blinks and Relena's face comes on. Wing Zero tells me what is going on, what she is saying, what she wants to do. She's the icon of peace. Look how she sits in her chair, back straight, hands folded neatly in her lap. She's so perfect. Her hair is pulled back from her face. A crown sits on her head. She's the Queen of the World Nation. Such a huge responsibility, and she's my age.

I smirk sadly, coldly. It's unfair how life treated us. She was so misunderstood when she was younger. Torn from her home, she knew not what to believe. She was hidden from the truth. And that's why I thought she was stupid at first. How could she have not seen what was going on in the world? Couldn't she feel the pain? Didn't her parents show her films of dying families, of people asking for mercy and the soldiers brutally killing them? Did she not know of rape? Of abuse? Did she know of assassinations? Did she not _care_?

No, she cared. The twist was that she knew of nothing to care about. She knew nothing of those poor men that died at my hands. She knew nothing of those women and children, the families I slaughtered in their sleep, except maybe the late night people. They wouldn't have felt any pain anyway; the explosions were always effective, disintegrating everything before you could register what happened in your mind. But everything would unfold and finish correctly in the end. Because I am the Perfect Soldier. I make no mistakes. Even if my missions do kill more than necessary, they would have died eventually. I am what Doctor J wanted. I am the perfect tool of war. I am what soldiers wanted to be: unfeeling, uncaring. I had nothing to feel for and nothing to care for; that was what made me so great.

Her mouth moves silent across the screen and I feel stupid as I reach out and touch it. I wish I could feel her, make sure she's really there. She's so far away. I sometimes feel as if I've imagined her whole entire being. The picture changes and it shows people clapping and applauding for her great speech. Yes, Relena sure had a way with words.

She sat back and neither smiled nor frowned. She sat like a diplomat on her cushioned chair. But I knew she wasn't going to be like the corrupted ones who sat next to her. She would achieve her goals for others. She would always put people first. She would never trade a man's life for money.

_Don't look at me_, I whisper as the camera focuses on her face. I feel as if her eyes are looking right at me. Those pure blue eyes that have seen the truth, yet are still so innocent haunt me. Her innocence it what reminds me of those I killed. Their faces haunt me now. I can see them. The eyes are all different. The space between them is different. Their noses, the mouths, the face structure. Some have freckles and some are too dark to have any face blemishes. But all that they have in common is the look of death in their eyes. The look of the unbearable knowledge that they were going to die right then and there flashes in their eyes before red covers them and their eyes become cloudy.

I am a monster. How could she be fighting for peace, for me? She fights for everyone she says. She wants peace for everyone. I deserve no such thing. I am a cold monster. I am the god of Inhumanity. Yes, I am a god. I know I must be some god. What else could explain the reason why I have so much power to take life? I still say that I am the god of Death. But inhuman fits me better I think. I am cold. I am unfeeling. I am everything she should be fighting against and yet she fights for me. She wants me to have peace.

I don't know what it feels like to cry anymore. I haven't cried since Odin died. Even then, the tears were so few that none fell down my face. I consider the rain my tears. It seems to be the only thing that'll cry for me. I am incapable of crying on my own and sometimes I wish I could. Strangely I do. Maybe it'd bring me some peace. Some abnormal peace that would comfort me for all the death and pain I've caused.

God of Inhumanity, yes that's what I am, I decide as the faces scream around me. Damn space. The silence gives them plenty of room to scream. Echoing, constantly, never ending screams. And everything hurts, my thoughts hurt my mind, my soul hurts because I don't have one, and my heart beats unnaturally because of the side effects of all the drugs injected into me during my training.

I laugh at them. They're morbid faces, bloody and wounded look at me in shock, in disgust as I seem to laugh mechanically. The sound of my own laughter hurts my ears. Nonetheless, I continue laughing at myself, at my pitiful excuse of a life, at them for trying to make me feel guilty. For you see, the God of Inhumanity has no guilt for what he has done. That is why he is inhuman.

**A/N**: Hey there! It's been awhile since I've written a GW story, I know. Thought I might give it another go…have I lost all touch in Gundam Wing? Then again, it has been four years since I've seen it and no, I'm a cheapskate and I haven't bought all the episodes on DVD for $200. Although, I could now that I actual have a DVD player. The $200 dollars though might be a little harder to scrap though…

Nonetheless…

PLEASE tell me if you've read this! I've been writing this long Harry Potter fic (The Dragonstar it's not that bad!) thing and it's :::makes a whistling sound indicating something dropping::: not doing so good. If you have read that, please tell me in a review! I really need to here from you guys! :::sniff::: You're the only thing that makes my world go round…my world has stopped spinning now. Push the purple button please…and let my world again fill with joyful sounds! _YOU SEE?!?!_ _That's_ what I've resorted to! SINGING for reviews…well, kinda…but still insanely pitiful. Heavens, just shoot me and put me out of my misery.


End file.
